The Thomas Dumbledore Chronicles
by A. J. Lambert
Summary: Voldemort was conceived under love potion, making him incapable of love. But what if he'd had a son? A motherless heir, raised by the one man Voldemort detests and fears above all overs. This is the untold story of Thomas Dumbledore...
1. Author

This may start out feeling like a children's book, but that's only the first few chapters! Once I get into the thick of it, there **WILL** be language, violence, sex between men and women, men and men, and between women and women - but mostly men and men ;) . There will also be a couple of scenes of torture, but that will be much further on. **THAT** is why this has an M rating.

Thomas Dumbledore is a character of my own creation - I put the DVD on, and then act alongside it. This is basically me lol hence why I made Thomas the son of Voldemort; all other characters (Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dorcas Meadowes, etc) are owned by the great lady herself - J. K. Rowling.

The bulk of this is made up (word for word) of the scripts of all eight films. However, I will also be including storylines that never made it out of the books, such as Hermione's creation of S.P.E.W. and the Battle of the Astronomy Tower (which they "replaced" with the opening scene of a Death Eater attack in Half-Blood Prince!). If anyone has any other ideas for me to add to this (please please **PLEASE! **stick with the established storylines!), then simply message me and we'll go from there!

A. J. Lambert x


	2. Prologue

He closed the door, then bolted it. Dorcas Meadowes, all of forty-two years of age, was in love with the man who had just locked her bedroom door. However, she also knew that he was not in love with her. Not yet. That was why she'd poured copious amounts of love potion into his champagne earlier on. Now, she was on her bed, and he turned to face her, red eyes devoid of all emotion.

"Well, come here, sweety. You're not going to do much good all the way over there, now are you?"

He moved fluidly, almost gracefully, and sat atop her. They embraced passionately, their lips and bodies moving together to the rhythmic song of their lust.

* * *

><p>She screamed, harder and louder than she had ever before in her life. The pain was unbearable; beyond anything she had prepared for. It was almost hard for her to believe that, only nine months previously, she'd made love with the man of her dreams. As soon as he'd woken the next morning, he'd left without even a note, leaving Dorcas broken hearted but still longing for his touch, his love. It was soon after that she'd learnt she was pregnant with his child.<p>

Now, almost thirty-nine weeks later, she was in her bed, legs slightly apart, with excrutiating pain emanating from her lower abdomen.

"Easy, Dorcas. Don't cause yourself too much pain."

Dorcas heard the soothing words of her oldest friend, Professor Albus Dumbledore. She'd known him ever since she was twelve, having taught transfiguration to both herself and her fellow students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After seven years of schooling, Dorcas left Hogwarts, little knowing of the danger that was to come.

One of the school's ex pupils, Tom Riddle, had formed an army of dark wizards - Death Eaters, as they called themselves - and attempted to take over the wizarding world. Working in conjunction with the Ministry of Magic, Albus had seen fit to create an army of his own, the Order of the Phoenix, and he had taken it upon himself to recruit Dorcas into its ranks. Since that day, Dorcas had fought many battles aganst Death Eaters, even saving the life of Margaret Thatcher, the muggle Prime Minister, from an attack by the famed Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange.

She screamed again.

"That's it, Dorcas. I can see the head," came Albus' calm, yet excited tones.

Two minutes later it was all over, and Dorcas was holding a baby, her baby son, in her arms.

Suddenly, Albus was moving to put her jacket over her shoulders. "Dorcas, my dear, I'm afraid we've lingered too long."

"He's coming?"

Albus simply looked at her in concern. "Undoubtedly."

She nodded. "Ok," she said. Before looking up at Albus again, Dorcas gazed down upon her son's face. "My son; my sweet, sweet son. Always know that your mother loves you."

Turning to Albus, Dorcas handed her newborn to her friend and confidant. "Take him, Albus. Quickly. Before He gets here."

After a moment of silence, Albus asked, "You're sure...?"

Dorcas nodded, "Please. Keep him safe..."

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn't given him a name!

"Keep my Thomas safe, Albus," she said through newly-shed tears.

As Albus prepared to disapparate, a loud _pop_ was heard outside the bedroom window. "Go!" she yelled, and Albus complied with his own _pop_.

Not less than a minute later, she saw Him enter the room. He looked around, crimson red eyes scouring the room. Slitted nostrils flared in frustration. "Where is the baby?"

"What baby?" she lied.

Suddenly, He pointed His wand at her, sending Dorcas flying backward into the wall behind. "Don't toy with me, Dorcas," He rasped. "_Where_ is the baby?"

_Thomas is safe,_ she thought. _He's with Albus, protected._ Dorcas made her choice. "I'll never tell you. Go. To. Hell," she spat.

He smiled; an evil, spiteful, grin. It was preposterous to believe he'd once been the man she loved, less than a year ago. "I'm already there, Dorcas. Join me, won't you?

"Avada Kedavra!"

The last thing Dorcas knew in this world, beyond any doubt, was that her son would help bring an end to this _thing_ that had just killed her.


	3. A Castle Like Hogwarts

The day started like any other typical early autumn day. Thomas Dumbledore, adopted son of the famed Professor Albus Dumbledore, woke at seven o'clock (as per usual), brushed his teeth and bathed in the prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor, went back to his rather unassuming bedroom (also on the fifth floor), and dressed. Sometimes, one truly had to love growing up in castle - especially as that castle happened to be Hogwarts.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a thousand year-old castle built close to the village of Hogsmeade in the Scottish Highlands. Supposedly, the statue in the Entrance Hall was that of the architect himself, who'd worked alongside the Hogwarts Founder Rowena Ravenclaw on the orginal - and ever-changing - design of the castle. The Founders, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin, were the four greatest wizards and witches of their generation, and at the time had decided to join together to pass on their collective knowledge to others.

Thomas spent the next five minutes making sure his room was all ship-shape. He may have been six years old, but that didn't mean he would just leave his room in a mess. When he was satisfied with the cleanliness of his room (and having brushed his considerably long brown hair - it currently hung down to the backs of his thighs), Thomas headed toward the Grand Staircase, and down to the Great Hall on the ground floor. Walking through the open oak doors, Thomas' senses were overwhelmed by the smell of breakfast and the sound of chatter.

Term had begun at Hogwarts only yesterday. The students, who'd been sorted into the four Houses last night, were preparing themselves for the rigorous lessons they'd be given throughout the seven years of their tenure. Some, such as the older students, were simply eating their cereal and their toast, and not batting an eyelid at the prospect; the younger students - first years in particular - were clearly anxious. One first year, a Gryffindor with strikingly ginger hair, almost sprang out of his seat as one of the many professors passed by behind him. Then again, Thomas didn't blame him - Professor Snape had that effect on anyone who wasn't in Slytherin House.

Snape walked toward the entrance, thus toward Thomas. Despite his reputation, Thomas always believed there was something more to him, as if a long-lost past haunted his mind. He couldn't pin it down, but he just _knew_ there was something. Maybe Dad knew; he'd ask him tonight before bed. The black, greasy hair, grumpy nature, and evil glares were nothing more than a well-rehearsed façade. And yet, somehow, no one else could see this. How odd. But then again, without oddness, life would've been fairly bland - especially at Hogwarts.

Out of compassion, Thomas decided to seat himself next to the startled Gryffindor. Even that basic movement caused the ginger-haired boy to yelp ever-so-slightly."Sorry," said a slightly concerned, yet bewildered, Thomas. "My name's Thomas. What's yours?"

The boy stared at him in what Thomas could only guess as mild shock. "Umm...Percy, Percy Weasley," His expression changed subtly. "Hey, aren't you a little young to be here? Please tell me you're not a ghost!"

"Oh, no, I'm not a ghost! Not even a student. Not yet, anyway. I _am_ only six after all," Thomas decided to continue piling the shock, in an effort to calm this Percy boy down a little. "Have you met Professor Dumbledore yet?" When Percy answered that he had, Thomas continued, "He's my father, by the way. That's why I'm here; he's not married, and he doesn't have any other family, so I figure it's good for him to have someone here with him that he cares about," With that, he quickly stole a slice of Percy's toast.

Ignoring his loss of food, Percy's face took on a shade of dawning comprehension, "Don't you know my brother Charlie? He mentioned a young boy that lived in the castle, and I always thought he meant a ghost."

"Charlie...Charlie Weasley," Thomas thought to himself. "Ohhh! Charlie! Yeh, I met him at the Star-of-Term Feast two years ago. He was just as scared as you were."

Percy took a bite out of his one remaining slice of toast before commenting, "I'll bet he was shaking in his robes."

Thomas laughed, "Actually, he had to leave and be sick in the toilets. And that was before the haggis."

* * *

><p>After his chat with Percy, which happened to continue for another half hour after they moved out toward the Owlery, Thomas decided to head to Hagrid's for a couple of relaxing hours. Simply because his dad had told him to catch up on his arithmatic didn't mean to say that Thomas was willing to keep to a schedule. Anything Dad wanted doing was seconded by the fun to be had at Hagrid's.<p>

Rubeus Hagird, Hogwarts' Keeper of Keys and Grounds, had been a staple in Thomas' life, just like many of the school's staff. Without Hagrid's help, Thomas would never have been able to tell the difference between air and thestral. Not that he believed in thestrals though. If he didn't see something then it didn't exist, end of. But Hagrid was ok with that. So was Fang, his pet dog and favourite companion. Speaking of Fang, he was bouding along the Covered Bridge in his own canine way. Following close behind was Hagrid himself. Hagrid was _tall_, there was no doubt about that. And his hair was so...thick, and shaggy, and scruffy. But even that didn't come anywhere close to describing the half-giant's beard...

" 'eya, Thomas," said Hagrid as he picked him up with one hand and settled him on his left shoulder. "Where we off to today?"

"Anywhere, Hagrid!" Thomas replied excitedly. He always loved it whenever Hagrid gave him a ride on his shoulders. Thomas had constantly imagined riding a centaur to be silimar, if not exactly the same, to this experience. Nevertheless, it was still fun.

They passed through the connecting courtyard, into the Clock Tower, and up several flights of stairs. "Hagrid, where are we going?"

"To the 'ospital wing," he replied. "One of the new lot 'ave taken ill after accidentally eatin' some stewed mandrake. Madam Pomfrey wanted me to knock up some morale booster."

_Why was it everyone thinks they couldn't be hurt by food?_ thought Thomas.

When they entered the hospital wing, Thomas wasn't prepared for exactly how many had actually eaten the stew. All the beds were full of eleven and twelve year-olds being sick into the buckets they held in their laps. A further twenty were bent double on the hard stone floor, their heads in their own buckets.

Madam Pomfrey saw Hagrid and Thomas and sighed in relief, but as soon as her keen eyes took stock of Fang, she screamed and shooed "that terrible furred beast" away and out of her territory. Fang ran out, his face a mixture of fear from Pomfrey, and relief at being allowed to leave her presence as quickly as he could.

One hour (and several of Hagrid's most beloved songs) later, Thomas said goodbye to everyone and headed to his next destination. He didn't know where it was, or how long it would take to get there, but Thomas didn't care. It was part of the fun of living in a castle like Hogwarts.


	4. Growing Up

"You do know, Thomas, that your legs are more important than this," said Albus Dumbledore as he stood next to Thomas' bed in the hospital wing. He'd broken both his legs after falling from the Whomping Willow. Well, maybe _falling_ was a little generous; the Willow had responded less than kindly after Thomas had managed to wrap chains around the branches. All he'd wanted to do was break into the Shrieking Shack. And for all his trouble, the Willow had escaped its trappings just as Thomas was preparing to lock all the chains together. What followed was blinding pain, a little screaming (_ok, maybe a lot_), and blackness. According to Madam Pomfrey he'd been found by Professor Snape a couple of hours ago. Now, he was being lectured, _lectured!_, by his dad, though he certainly kept insisting that it was in fact not a lecture. Thomas knew better, of course. He was just like any other nine year-old boy; cocky and headstrong, with a penchant for climbing trees, especially the dangerous-looking kind.

Despite the so-called lecture, Albus had always been an inspiring figure to Thomas. Not fatherly though; more grandfatherly. Mostly due to his appearance, of course. Dressed in crimson robes, and bespectacled by half-moon glasses, Albus Dumbledore, at the proud old age of one hundred and nine, wore his white wavy hair long and down his back, and sported a long white beard down his front. He was often seen walking the halls in his regular lilac robes, but Thomas had given his father the red robes as a gift, so he imagined Albus had seen fit to wear them for him tonight.

Beside Albus, stood Madam Pomfrey, clad in her usual red and white matron's robes; Professor Snape, in his usual black robes; and Professor McGonagall, herself dressed in dark emerald, almost black, robes. Is was Snape who spoke next.

"Professor, might I suggest keeping young Mr. Dumbledore contained in his bedroom. We may very well end up bringing him here in a matchbox next time. "

"Severus, he's a nine year-old boy, surely even you know what that's like," responded McGonagall. "Climbing trees is part of growing up."

"I agree," began Albus. "Poppy, I trust I've no need to tell you to give Thomas the best of your care. Thomas, I'll be in my office if you need me."

Albus lead McGonagall and Snape out of the hospital wing. Whilst leaving he added, "And Severus, lighten up." This was met with a blank face from Snape, however McGonagall stifled a laugh. Whether Snape uttered a retort was unknown to Thomas as the doors closed behind them.

"Here, Mr. Dumbledore, take this; it'll help," said Madam Pomfrey as she handed Thomas a goblet of liquid.

He took a sip. "You're giving me pumpkin juice?"

Pomfrey looked exasperated. "Well what did you expect, Skele-Gro?"

And with that, she retired to her office.

* * *

><p>Two months later, and the snow had begun to set in on the Highlands. Only two weeks from Christmas, and Hagrid had already been drafted in to haul the freshly-felled tree from the Forbidden Forest to the Great Hall. All the students were either dressed in their own clothes for the holidays, or were packing for the trip back home to spend three weeks with their families. Thomas, as always, had elected to stay at the castle, eager to have the run of the place. Well, most of it at any rate. His father had just informed him recently that the third floor corridor (and the adjoining rooms) had been made off-limits to all. At first, Thomas thought this to be incredibly unfair, as he'd been allowed in every nook and cranny of the castle in the past. But as the hours ticked by, and the students began to finish packing and lock their suicases, he had an idea. If, given the chance, he could find a way to do so, then he would attempt to gain entry into the corridor next year. Any way he could.<p>

While in the middle of coming up with a suitably audacious plan of action, Thomas walked face-first into four ginger beings, and fell to the stone floor on the sixth tier of the Grand Staircase. "Oh, sorry! Guess I wasn't looking where I was going!"

"That must be the understatement of the century!" quipped Fred Weasley.

"And the not even a year old yet!" remarked George Weasley.

Fred and George Weasley, the younger brothers of Charlie and Percy, were identical twins. Kind of annoying, considering the confusion their mother had been through (according to Charlie, she'd gotten the two mixed up every Christmas and every birthday since they were born). The pair were in the first year at Hogwarts, while Percy was now in his fourth, and Charlie his seventh and final year.

"Come on, give me your hand," said Fred, as he helped Thomas up off the floor. He brushed his hair out of his face, letting it rest naturally around his ankles, then dusted himself down as the elder twin spoke. "We hear that you never go with anyone at Christmas, young Dumbledore."

Thomas nodded. "Yeh, my dad doesn't think I'm ready. Not until next year when I actually start here as a student."

"You know, Thomas," said Charlie. "We can always talk to him if you want to spent the holidays at ours this year."

_Really? I'd actually get to stay with someone else? Finally?_ "Really?" asked Thomas. "I mean, your parents wouldn't mind at all?"

"Oh, relax, mate," Fred said. "Mum and Dad already know who you are."

"Besides," George chimed in. "They'd love to actually meet you at some point."

"Well, if you're sure, guys," Thomas said apprehensively. Then he smiled at them. "Thanks."

* * *

><p>"Password?"<p>

"Ursula major."

The Fat Lady, a portrait that had guarded the Gryffindor Common Room since the 1960s at least, swung open to reveal the passageway into the Gryffindor's area. Thomas walked through, and lounged across the expansive rug on the stone floor in front of the crackling fire. Grateful for their assistance with persuading his dad in allowing him to leave the castle, Thomas had agreed to help the Weasley boys with their packing before they left for London in the morning. The boys, like the rest of the school, were down in the Great Hall enjoying the meal, so Thomas had a free half hour to nose around the common room undisturbed.

As he gazed into the fire, Thomas found himself feeling appreciative toward Peeves for keeping him abreast of all the castle's passwords. Somehow he didn't quite get how or why Filch, the school's caretaker, showed so much animosity toward the often misunderstood ghoul. As gradually as day turned to night, Thomas allowed himself to fall into the deep throes of sleep.

He was woken the next morning by the familiar voice of Fred Weasley, telling him to get ready else the train would leave without him, and that he didn't want that to happen. Twenty rushed minutes later, Thomas was washed, dressed, and anxiously clutching his suitcase as he and the Weasleys made their way through the Entrance Hall, out the great oak double doors, across the Viaduct Courtyard, and across the Viaduct. The air was crisp, and their footsteps made the typical crunching sound in the snow that continued to fall all around them.

The trip from the castle to Hogsmeade train station took all of twenty minutes to hike. During that time the light snowfall had turned into an all-out blizzard, leaving Thomas and the Weasleys crammed in with dozens of other students in the waiting room. A few minutes ahead of eleven o'clock, the Hogwarts Express arrived, its red paint gleaming and its headlamps baring through the copious amounts of snow. Five coaches were attached to the rear of the tender.

It took a full five minutes for the students to huddle their way onboard. The Weasleys' group passed through the front two coaches, all the compartments being full. The third coach, however, afforded the group an empty space, and they took it without preamble. Charlie and George hefted their luggage onto the racks above, and soon they were all snuggled comfortably into the soft seating.

"So," began Percy. "I guess Oliver Wood's not going to be getting much Quidditch practice in today."

George looked up to see a dark-haired boy walk into their space, "Speak of the Devil, brother."

Oliver Wood, a Scottish boy in Percy's year, was the Keeper and Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Thomas had only ever seen one or two of the Hogwarts matches, but was gradually being persuaded to see more as Charlie, Fred, and George were also on the Gryffindor team. He wasn't particularly surprised to hear that the entire Weasley clan were fanatical about the Wizard sport. Apparently, Madam Hooch, the Quidditch instructor, had high hopes for the family, once stating to Thomas that she would personally see to it that the Gryffindor team was entirely made up of Weasley children. _Well,_, thought Thomas, _at least their hair will match their robes_.

Oliver looked slightly nervous, with his skin almost paling, and hands were clammy as they fumbled with each other. "Shouldn't you be coming up with a new plan so we can finally take down Slytherin?" Charlie asked as nonchalantly as he could.

At least this got Oliver's attention. "With this white-out, I don't think so. Besides, I can plan just as well from home as I can here." He saw the empty seat next to Thomas, "Is anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

"Oh, sure, go right ahead," replied Thomas. As Oliver sat down, Thomas took his hand and gave it a firm shake. "Thomas Dumbledore."

Oliver smiled, "Oliver Wood. You're Dumbledore's son? Oh, of course; you live at Hogwarts permanently, don't you?"

"Well, I _do_ have the whole castle to myself. Even areas that are out-of-bounds to you lot," he winked.

"If that's the case," started George.

"Then you can tell us the best location for a shop," finished Fred.

Without miliseconds, Thomas' mind recalled the right space, "As you're leaving the Gryffindor Common Room, there's a tapestry on the left-hand side. If you cast _expulso_ on that tapestry, it'll open to reveal a secret passageway, and down that passageway is a large-ish room. Well, I doubt it'll be large enough for you two when you get settled in and stuff."

The twins looked at each other, then turned to Thomas, their faces filled with awe. "Blimey," they both said together.

"To think we'd decided not to use you..." said Fred.

"It seems _this_ Map has been holding out on us," came George.

"Yes, George. Much better than that other Map."

Thomas, as happy as he was for helping the twins in their monetary schemes, had no clue as to what map they were possibly referring to. As such, he simply smiled and sank back into his seat. Two minutes later, the train departed. A moment after, and Thomas was once again asleep.


	5. Christmas at the Weasleys

Christmas in Devon was epic.

There was no other way to really describe it. On his first day there, he'd met the rest of the Weasley clan; their mother, Molly, was what was called a "stay-at-home mum" - constantly knitting, cleaning, and washing clothes; the eldest brother, Bill, who Thomas had previously met around a year before; Ron, the youngest son who was preparing, like Thomas, to start Hogwarts in the fast-approaching September; and Ginny, the youngest Weasley child and only girl, who was a year younger than Ron. Arthur, their dad, worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department at the Ministry of Magic, and had met Thomas and his sons at King's Cross Station. Elsewhere, there was an absolute menagerie of animals and pets (the family itself owned a cat; Percy used to own a rat called Scabbers until he was given an owl by his mother; and Scabbers was then given to Ron) that seemed to almost rule the roost.

After introductions - which included stunned looks from Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley when Thomas told them who he was - the group moved into the homely abode. Upon entering the house, which the Weasley's had named The Burrow, Thomas passed through the much-used kitchen. Pots and pans where washing themselves in the sink, as Mrs. Weasley had charmed them into doing so. Heading toward the higgledy piggledy staircase, Thomas saw an unusual item that held a distinct similarity to a grandfather clock. The difference between the two lied in the fact that this clock's hands were ordained with images of each family member, and the numbers were replaced by the names of different places, such as school, lost, and hospital. Thomas had to do a double-take; apparently, Mr. Weasley considered his job seriously, as one name included "dentist". "Some muggle debauchery," as Professor Snape would say.

Mrs. Weasley showed Thomas to the room he would be staying in, which also happened to be Ron's bedroom. It was decorated in mainly orange - apparently the colour of Ron's favourite Quidditch team - and there was space for another bed, which Mrs. Weasley promptly used by waving her wand, and creating a bed out of what looked to be thin air. But then again, that was magic.

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, "that's all done. Now, you sure you're happy to be sharing with Ron, dear?"

"Yes, thank you," Thomas replied, smiling at her.

"In that case, I'll leave you two to get acquainted."

And with that, Mrs. Weasley left, closing the door behind her. This left Thomas alone with Ron, who looked rather uncomfortable. "What's up?"

Ron hesitated before answering, "So, you're really...like, his son?"

Thomas laughed, "Yes, Ron, I most certainly am."

"Whoa, wicked!" exclaimed Ron as they both sat on his bed. "So, you're going to become a student at Hogwarts this year? Have you heard who else is coming? Apparently it's a Malfoy."

"Sounds familiar."

"It should. The Malfoys are a pure-blood family who've all been placed into Slytherin," Ron added, "Dad works for Lucius Malfoy at the Ministry."

Realisation dawned on Thomas, "Of course; he's one of Hogwarts' governors as well, isn't he? Dad get visits from him every now and then. Blond, long hair?" he asked noncommittally.

Ron nodded. "That's the one. Can't stand the git, me."

Silence fell on them for a full minute before Ron came up with a new topic. "Play Quidditch?"

"Last time I did, I ended up crashing my way through the potions labs. Snape wasn't very happy with me after that."

Ron's eyes widened, "Bloody Hell! Even Ginny wasn't _that_ bad when Fred starting teaching her how to fly."

* * *

><p>When Christmas Morning came, Thomas was woken by and excited Ron at eight o'clock, who bounced up and down on his bed until he got a reaction. "Ok, ok, Ron, I'm awake already."<p>

He and Ron ran down the stairs as best they could and, still in their pyjamas, proceeded to wake the rest of the Weasleys. By the end of the hour the entire house was awake and surrounding the Christmas tree in the living room. The tree was brimming with presents - at least two for everyone, Thomas guessed - and Ginny, being the youngest, was the first to crawl through the forest of branches and presents.

"Ginny, come out of there," Mrs. Weasley said before her daughter could bring the tree crashing down. "Now, as our guest it's only right that Thomas is the first to open his presents."

Thomas was ever-so-slightly taken aback. "You got me presents?"

"Everyone who stays with us over Christmas gets presents," said Mr. Weasley simply.

As Ginny pulled out his first, slightly floppy present, Thomas smiled from ear to ear. Surely his father couldn't have been afraid of _this_?

The wrapping paper was simple brown packaging paper, and so lovingly wrapped that Thomas simply didn't want to spoil it, but Fred insisted. He tore it open with his hands, and inside Thomas saw a woollen lump of lilac. "Percy mentioned lilac was your favourite colour," said Mrs. Weasley. Thomas took the mass of lilac and unfurled it, and saw it was a jumper. He also saw that there was a giant red "T" on the front, but he didn't mind.

"Don't forget your other one, mate," Bill said as he handed it to Thomas. A long, thin object, with one end jutting out as if it were bushy.

He had a feeling he knew exactly what it was.

It took a full minute to get all the paper off, but once the broomstick was released Thomas was exstatic beyond words. "Thank you!" he said as he hugged every member of the family before putting on the jumper and heading outside to practice his flying.

"I think he liked your knitting pattern, Mum," joked Charlie. Suddenly, there was an excited "YAY!" from outside, and then a just as sudden crash in the gnome pen.

Ginny looked at Ron, "I think you'd better teach him. Quickly," she said.


	6. Retrieving A VIP

His father stood at the top level of the Astronomy Tower, gazing out at the the vast Highland landscape. It was the middle of Summer, the Sun high in the sky, and Hogwarts stood empty of students once again. Thomas had pleaded with Dumbledore about staying over at the Weasley's for the holidays, but his father had argued against this, saying that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley simply didn't have the money to continually replace their orchard after Thomas' crashing into the trees with his broomstick.

Dumbledore also made mention of a certain task he wanted performed, but the only detail he passed on was that Thomas was to travel with Hagrid.

Now, Thomas and Hagrid were facing Dumbledore, who turned to look them each in the eye. "Thomas. Hagrid. I see Minerva gave you my message."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir," acknowledged Hagrid.

"Dad, what is it?" Thomas asked.

Dumbledore looked at them both with something akin to anticipation, before starting, "Eleven years ago, a young baby was almost killed, his mother and father murdered in front of him. Severus found them, and rescued the boy. Hagrid, Minerva, and I then took the boy to his only living relatives.

"Now, it seems he has begun to come into his magical abilities. His family - all muggles - have taken notice; we've sent owls to their residence concerning the boy's enrolement at Hogwarts, yet we have received no word from them. Mrs. Figg, a Squib and neighbour, was watching them closely, and last night reported that the entire family packed up and left. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to follow."

Dumbledore almost winked at the pair. "Naturally, I have located the family to a small island off the Cornish coast in the Scilly Isles. I'd like the two of you to retreive the boy and prepare him for his time here at Hogwarts."

Thomas took this all in, but Hagrid was the first to speak. "What the bloody 'ell are they doin' there? Don't they know they could get 'emselves killed?" When father and son both looked at him with questioning glances, he added, "Last I 'eard, there were a storm 'eadin' in, that part of the country."

"Who is it we're retreiving, by the way, Dad?" asked Thomas.

"Harry Potter."

Thomas' mouth dropped open. All his life he'd wanted to meet the Boy Who Lived, but he'd never had the chance. He looked at Hagrid, but apparently Hagrid already knew Harry's identity beforehand. Harry Potter, commonly known as the Boy Who Lived, had been born to Lily and James Potter in 1990. At the time, the wizarding world was under the oppression of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, Dumbledore, Hagrid, McGonagall, Snape, and many of the other Hogwarts professors all members of the Order of the Phoenix. The Order was a group of wizards and witches who stood firm against Voldemort and, according to McGonagall, Lily and James had also been members. That was until Voldemort had targeted their son Harry for death in 1991. When Thomas had asked his father about what happened, Dumbledore had simply stated that the house was in ruins, mainly due to Lily and James putting up a Hell of a fight against the Dark Lord.

Thanks mainly to Dumbledore, Harry had been kept away from his childhood fame. It made sense that Thomas' father would send someone to help ease him into the world of magic after living with muggles for so long.

"He's going to be in my year-group?" Thomas asked excitedly.

"Yes, he is," his father replied simply before focusing on Hagrid. "I trust you won't scare the boy too much, Hagrid."

"If that were the case, sir, I'd send Severus instead o' me," said Hagrid, chuckling.

"How very true," Dumbledore laughed. "Tomorrow will be Harry's birthday. I trust you will be punctual."

Thomas nodded, "To the letter, Dad."

Smiling, Dumbledore said, "That's all I ask, son."

* * *

><p><em>Hey Ron,<em>

_First of all, thank you for my birthday present! I know it used to belong to Charlie in his first year, so I'm thanking him for the hat as well._

_I'm not going to be able to write much at the moment, as Dad wants me and Hagrid to go rescue someone from his muggle family - I'll tell you more once term starts, but then again I can just point him out to you (he's starting up at Hogwarts with the two of us!). Well, I'll keep a look out for all of you on the train from London in a couple of months, and give your parents a hug from me._

_Hope you have a great summer,_

_Thomas._

Thomas enclosed the letter into an envelope, wrote on the address, and handed it to Fawkes, his father's phoenix. He would've used an owl from the owlery, but he hadn't the time to rush there from his dad's office. Besides, Dumbledore did this all the time, so why shouldn't _he_ do it, too? Fawkes, a large red-gold bird that resided within the office mostly perched on his stand, had been as familiar a sight to Thomas as seeing Filch lead first- and second-years into the Dark Forest. But that was just Filch being Filch.

After some careful persuasion from Thomas, Fawkes finally spread his wings and flew up and out of the nearest window. After watching for a further minute or so to make sure Fawkes didn't automatically come swooping back, Thomas set out for the Clock Tower to meet with Hagrid.

When he arrived, Thomas saw that Hagrid was armed with, unusually, an umbrella. The bearded man saw the look on Thomas' face, and said, "I use it instead of a wand; it were taken from me when I were...asked to leave Hogwarts," He looked a little uncomfortable. "Ready?" He asked.

"Whenever you are," Thomas replied, and took hold of Hagrid's enormous hand. With a loud _pop!_ the pair disapparated away from Hogwarts.

* * *

><p>Being so small in comparison to a giant, or half-giant in Hagrid's case, was almost a blessing for Thomas as he huddled underneath Hagrid's thick beard. When his father had said "small island", Thomas hadn't known how much he'd exaggerrated. The island, if you could even call it that, was around a couple of hundred metres long, and about half as wide. In the centre was a single wooden hut, a lone bastion against the prevailing storm. Clearly, these muggles were mad beyond words.<p>

"Thomas," Hagrid shouted, attempting to be heard above the rain. "Let me do the talkin'. I've got more experience with muggles than you, ok?"

Thomas simply tugged on his beard to state acknowledgment.

Hagrid then made his way toward the hut's single door. Instead of just opening it, Hagrid slammed his forearm into the door. creating a rather loud bang. Several more bangs later, and the door came down off its' hinges and fell to the floor with a _clang_. A yelp was heard from inside, and Hagrid strode in on top of the felled door, and stopped.

"Sorry 'bout that."

Thomas jumped down from his perch and landed beside Hagrid, as he turned round, picked up the door, and put it back in place. Toward the back of the hut, in what was laughingly called a kitchen, was a portly boy in striped blue pyjamas, and on the rickety stairs stood a pair of adults, clearly muggles due to their fear. A woman, thin as a stick and wearing a nightshirt that barely clung to her, and rollers in her short brunette hair. Beside her was who appeared to be her husband, a man even more portly than the boy below, he wore a checkered brown gown over striped blue pyjamas, brown slippers, and a bushy moustache. His receeding light brown hair was sticking up at all angles. In his hands he held what Thomas assumed to be some sort of muggle technological monstrosity.

The man spoke up in the best imitation of anger he could muster, "I demand that you leave at once! You are breaking and entering!"

Hagrid went to stand just in front of him. "Dry up Dursley you great prune."

He bent the end of what turned out to be the man's weapon upward toward the ceiling, as when he tried to use it to attack Hagrid, something _very_ loud erupted from the end of it. Instead of hitting Hagrid, it hit through the ceiling and then roof, bringing a small chunk of wood, several splinters, and rain showering around the muggles, who appeared to look more than a little nervous.

Hagrid and Thomas turned toward the boy at the back of the hut. "Well, I 'aven't seen you since you was a baby 'arry. But you're a bit more along than I would 'ave expected; particularly around the middle," he said as he indicated his own mid-section. The boy looked shocked.

"I'm not...I'm not Harry!"

A thinner boy, with short, dark brown hair, and round-framed glasses stepped out from behind the chimney-post. Thomas noticed a lightning bolt shaped-scar visible through his fringe. "I am."

Hagrid's face looked slightly relieved, "Well, of course you are!" He reached inside his jacket, and brought out a blue box. "Got something for ya. 'Fraid I might 'ave sat on it at some point! I imagine that it'll taste fine just the same."

Hagrid handed it to Harry, who looked at it curiously before opening it. Inside was a cake. "Baked it meself, words and all!"

On the cake, the green icing said, "Happee Birdae Harry". Harry's face almost exploded from absolute happiness. "Thank you!"

"It's not everyday that your young man turns eleven, now is it?" asked Hagrid rhetorically, as Thomas beamed at Harry. Surely this family had given him birthday cakes before?

Hagrid appeared to have found the only reasonable place to sit, and whilst doing so, had taken out his umbrella and pointed it at the fireplace. Twin jets of light shot out from its' tip, hitting the fireplace and setting whatever was already in it aflame. It seemed this was the first time the hut had ever felt warmth.

It was also another first, this time for Harry. As best as Thomas could tell, Harry's face was one of awe, with the slightest twinge of _I-can't-believe-what-I'm-seeing _in his eyes. He placed the cake on the nearby table, and asked, "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts," he said matter-of-factly. Thomas also introduced himself, before Hagrid went on. "Course, you'll know all about Hogwarts."

Harry looked glum. "Sorry, no," he said.

"No?" Thomas and Hagrid said together. "Blimey, 'arry, didn't you ever wonder where yer mum and dad learnt it all?" asked Hagird.

Perplexed, Harry asked, "Learnt what?"

Hagrid leant forward. "You're a wizard, Harry."

Harry took a step back, dawning comprehension on his face, giving Thomas the urge to giggle. "I...I'm a what?"

"A wizard," said Hagrid. "And a thumpin' goodun at that, I'd wager. Once you train up a little."

Harry's astonishment didn't falter. "No. You've made a mistake. I can't be a...a...a wizard. I mean, I'm just...Harry. Just Harry."

"Well," began Hagrid. " 'Just Harry', did you ever make anything 'appen? Anything you couldn't explain when you angry, or scared?"

As Harry begins to take all this in, Thomas takes out a letter, which is addressed to Harry, and gives it to him with a flourish. Harry then opened it, and read it aloud:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

"He will _not_ be going!" The muggle man could barely contain himself. "We swore when we took him in, we'd put an end to this rubbish!"

"You knew? You knew all along and you never told me?" Harry asked, almost enraged.

The muggle woman, her face bloated with embarrassment, began to walk over to the others. "Of course we knew. How could you not be? My _perfect_ sister being who she was. Oh, my mother and father were so proud the day she got her letter. We have a witch in the family. Isn't it wonderful?" she asked rhetorically. "I was the only one to see her for what she was. A freak! And then she met that Potter, and then she had you, and I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as ... abnormal. And then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up! And we got landed with you."

"Blown up?" Harry shouted. "You told me my parents died in a car crash!"

This in turn appeared to enrage Hagrid. "A car crash? A car crash kill Lily and James Potter?

"We had to tell him something," shot the woman. Behind them, meanwhile, the other boy had eyes and ears only for the cake, and had decided to take it upon himself to consume as fast as his mouth would allow.

"It's an outrage!" continued Hagrid. "It's a scandal!"

"He will _not_ be going!" The man repeated.

Hagrid almost laughed at this. "Oh, and I suppose a muggle like yourself's going to stop 'im, are yer?"

Harry looked up at the half-giant, and asked, bewildered, "Muggle?"

"Non-magic folk," Hagrid explained. Continuing, he said, "This boy's had his name down ever since he was born! He's going to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, and he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen: Albus Dumbledore," he said with the deepest of respect.

Man and wife looked flustered. "I will not pay for some crackpot old fool to teach him magic tricks!" said the man.

At this, Hagrid pointed his umbrella at him, with Thomas adding his brand new wand to the mix.

"Never. Insult Albus Dumbledore. In front. Of me," said Hagrid. Thomas could've sworn the couple had just come close to losing their lives. By Hagrid's hand or his own, he wasn't so sure.

Suddenly, Hagrid points his umbrella at the portly boy who, still eating the cake, never saw the spell that hit his rear end and causing a pig's tail to grow out from it. But boy, did he feel it. He screamed, as did the rest of the muggle family, who then proceeded to chase their son around the hut. Thomas and Harry laughed hysterically.

"Oh, umm...I'd appreciate if neither of yer told anyone at 'ogwarts 'bout that," said Hagrid. "Scrictly speakin', I'm not allowed ter do magic."

Harry nodded and said simply, "Ok."

Hagrid checked his pocket watch. "Ooh, we're a bit behind schedule. Best be off," he said as he allowed the door to fall off its hinges again. "Unless you'd rather stay, of course?" And with that, Hagrid went back out into the storm.

"Well?" Thomas asked Harry. "Do you _really_ want to stay with _them_?" They looked at the muggles. The man was chasing the boy up the stairs, who then summarily tripped and fell back down, sending his father careening down with him. This only made the woman shriek beyond high Heaven. "I've always wanted to meet a banshee," said Thomas.


End file.
